Burned
by He Who Descends
Summary: Bella and Edward are ecstatic about the Victorian manor they've just bought surrounded by sprawling green fields and clean air. The current residents couldn't be happier either. But every house has it's secrets, its dark and insidious going-ons, moments that scar a place... permanently. One such moment has left more than just scorch marks in this house... much more.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello, welcome to my newest story! After a culling my Manage Stories page looked a little empty and I KNOW I'm not switching my Word screen madly because I have a lack of fics I'm working on at the moment :L I decided to find one that looked fun and post it. Poison was the first of a long line of short/semi-short stories revolving around Haunted junk/places. This is the next, however this will come more under the semi-short tag as it's a little more of a plot thick type of deal.**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

 **xoxo  
He Who Descends**

Ever since I built this house it had seen only tragedy and heartbreak.

My beloved Emmett and I built this mansion as a new beginning, a place to begin a beautiful family of our own. However, after countless, fruitless attempts to create a child, I succumbed to a long suffered bout of Scarlet Fever. My Emmett was soon to follow me, the only obvious cause of his death the heartbreak of losing me.

The next to live in the house were the Brandons – Louise (29), Henry (45) and their seven children; Ethel (19), Theodosia (16), Theodore (16), Mary Alice (12), Judith (9), Archibald (7), and Winnifred (4 months).

Henry and Winnifred both died the year the family moved into the home of pneumonia. Louise lost her eldest son, Theodore, to a horse and buggy accident in town the next year. Ethel had married a local merchant and died in childbirth three months after this, then Judith contracted tuberculosis. Louise quickly sent her middle daughter, Mary Alice, away to an institution after she claimed to be able to see ghosts in the house. Mary Alice died eight months after being committed during a visit home. Archibald died after taking a fall down the stairs, his mother followed shortly after of smallpox. The only Brandon to leave the home alive was Theodosia.

The house was sold by Theodosia who left to live with her husband and his younger sister in their family home. The house was vacant for many years before Esme and Charles Evenson moved in, in 1834.

Esme was with child and soon gave birth to a son in the home. For a time, the house was happy; until Esme could not become pregnant a second time. Charles became enraged and began to beat his lovely young wife each and every night. He soon lost his wife and young son when the eastern wing of the home burned to the ground during the evening. Both mother and child died in their sleep from the heavy, black smoke that filled the home. Charles left two months later with a new woman.

The final family to occupy my glorious home were the Cullens, 1844-1895.

The middle aged couple was Marianne and Jonathon. They had been desperate for a child since they married when Marianne was sixteen. Finally, a few years after moving in, Marianne gave birth aged 27. Their son, Carlisle inherited the house after their death. The early years of the family were wonderful; the longest running period free from overwhelming tragedy. Eventually, Carlisle grew up and used the home as a place for _socially unacceptable_ young men to convene.

Inevitably, the community discovered the unholy goings on in my mansion and decided to approach young Mr Cullen directly; armed with axes, torches, pitchforks and the like.

And on the front lawn, April 7th 1895, aged 21, Carlisle Cullen died for his brethren, along with his lover. A young man named Jasper Whitlock from Texas.

This was by far one of the more tragic stories my home now holds; Carlisle was doused with kerosene and set alight in front of the whole town. Nothing more than a smoking, hideous, reeking pile of jet, black ash was left on the front lawn. That and his poor distraught lover who was promptly 'taken care of' for the 'good of the town'.

Some kind gentlemen took the ashes away soon after the whole issue had died down. A few years later, the real estate that held the house received a large, ornate urn in the mail and promptly placed it on the mantle of my home.

If my very old memory serves me, which sometimes it does and others it doesn't, that was when everything went to Hell.

The house had been relatively quiet, just the lot of us that hadn't wanted to leave moping around and being in a sort of blissfully silent state. We in no way desired to harm or to haunt the living and due to our largely contented attitude, the home did not feel 'evil' or 'haunted'. Many people had been through the home and agreed it was nice; large and stately, very ornate and beautiful. But it was the amount of work the old home required that really sent people away. The energy of the house was nice, just ready for the next set of memories to be made inside its sprawling halls.

These sprawling halls turned to cavernous prisons with the arrival of said urn.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Chapter 2, sorry for the wait!**

 **xoxo  
He Who Descends**

To be completely honest, none of us were quite sure who it was. It could have been any number of people and nobody wanted to speculate, for fear the timid soul inside would feel judged.

When the real estate put it upon the mantle, just as the note it came with instructed, she'd promptly left. Not just rushed away in a dither over some deadline sacrificed for the comfort of an old soul; the kind of rushing that involved nearly tripping on your high heels and throwing your head over your shoulder every three seconds the whole way to the door.

"Who do you suppose this is then?" Mary-Alice asked, running a curious, pale finger down the ornate china.

"I wouldn't know, dear," I replied, "Could it be your sister?"

"No, I doubt Thea would come back," Alice murmured. "She never liked it here."

I didn't remember her sister disliking the home, but like I said, sometimes memory serves, others it doesn't.

A figure appeared at the top of the stairwell.

"Hello, Jasper dear," I greeted pleasantly.

He didn't reply.

"We were just admiring the new arrival," Alice said, smiling widely at the lad.

Again, he gave no answer, just lingered at the top of the stairs. Behind him Esme and Emmett peered down.

Not all the souls who graced the halls of my home had remained, but a good few of us had collected here for various reasons.

"Who is that?" Esme asked suspiciously, probably terrified it was her husband.

"We don't know," Alice explained, "The estate agent just dropped it off then ran out the door like the hounds of Hell were on her heels."

Esme looked even more worried.

"Be calm, Esme, many people have lived in this grand home and this could be any one of them."

Alice tapped lightly on the side of the urn. "A-helllooo!?" she cried. "Anyone home?"

The room was silent.

"Perhaps this soul has already moved on," Emmett suggested.

"Or maybe it's shy?" Esme pondered.

"Yes, perhaps we should let it resurface in its own time, Alice," I said, motioning for the young woman to come away from the delicately painted china.

When two days had passed and not cooee of the newcomer had been heard, we all began to worry.

"What if it doesn't belong here?" Esme worried. "What if it was sent here by mistake and it's so embarrassed it can't come out?"

"Now, I'm sure it will come out when it's good and ready," I said, "It's probably a little frightened, remember it probably doesn't know us, it lived here as a human, not a spirit."

"Or maybe," Alice began, again hovering over the urn, "The lid is taped on."

"Now how silly, Alice," I said, turning around to show her how preposterous her claim was when I heard a funny sound.

"See, now it's not taped shut," Alice said proudly, holding a little piece of clear tape up.

"Oh," we all sort of just stared.

"It's ok now, you can get out," Alice called into the pot, "I took off the tape."

"Why would humans tape an urn shut?" I wondered.

"To make sure it didn't spill when they were transporting it probably," Emmett said, "I wouldn't worry."

"Or to keep whoever it is inside," Jasper intoned rather ominously.

"Well, I suppose if they were having activity and it frightened them, they might tape the urn shut, thinking rightly that's where the spirit was coming from," Esme muttered. "It's possible; some humans are still quite superstitious."

Alice inspected the urn closely. "Maybe they left the spirit wherever this came from? Because I don't think anybody is home."

I stepped up, placed my face close to the urn and took a deep breath.

"RISE AND SHIIIIINNNNEEEEE!" I shouted. I pulled back, feeling as though if someone was in there, they would either stir or there simply was no one in there.

"My word, Rosalie," Esme said, a little smile tugging at the corners of her mauve-y lips.

"Perhaps they're deaf," I said, "Really, we haven't tried very hard to awaken whoever they are."

Suddenly the urn gave a little tremble.

"I think it worked," Alice squeaked excitedly.

The lid lifted for fraction of a second and a puff of dark ash drifted out.

We all waited, the anticipation unbearable. The urn trembled and rattled and finally settled.

With a voice clearly unused for a very long time, the occupant of the urn asked " **Who is it?** "

The mistake was recognized immediately, despite our sheltered lives. We were well aware that not all spirits were as peaceful and easy going as the lot of us were. We'd never met an angry or vengeful spirit, but some of the spirits who passed through the house at various times told of these few spirits. Some were restless, some didn't know they'd passed; they were mostly harmless, just incredibly frightening and annoying to humans and other spirits. However, there were the odd few who were, simply put, evil.

The voice from the urn spoke with a thousand feelings all at once; contempt, anger, hatred. The voice was heavy, dark and deeply disturbing. It chilled me to my core.

Cool air and immense shadows leaked from the open lid.

"You've arrived at Rose Manor," I announced, trying not to let the energy bother me. I was the matriarch of this home and no one, dead or alive, would upset the calm and contentedness of the occupants here.

" **Have I?** " the voice said, a little lighter and somewhat scoffing.

"Yes," I puffed my chest out. "And as the owner of this home, I'd like to enquire as to what business you have being here?"

" **What business?** "

"What business indeed," Esme agreed.

" **Well, I once lived here, in this old home,** " replied the spirit. " **I placed a request with my keeper to be returned here.** "

"You asked your humans to return you?" I asked, somewhat shocked. I'd never been able to communicate with humans, let alone believed they'd do as I asked if I could.

" **I did.** "

"How?"

" **I left them a note.** "

I fumbled with the idea. I supposed it wasn't so strange to have left a note requesting to be sent to a particular place. The right kind of humans might either just do it or at least have a psychic sensitive investigate further.

" **Yes, I left them a note…** " it paused and exhaled, another puff of ash leaving the slightly ajar lid. " **On their little daughter.** "

"What?!" I cried, outraged. Of course spirits have great power, it's up to us how we use it. "How outright rude and nasty to write your messages on a little child."

" **I thought it appropriate; it got the message to them.** "

"Well, it is clear to me that we want no such company as your own here in this home," I spat, "We welcome humans here, not frighten them! I think no such person who lived here would do such a thing to a little child."

" **Through life and death, people learn and change. They forget things, both good and bad, and remember only black and white details.** "

"We are still able to choose our behavior," I stated. "That's not an excuse for absolute disrespect to the living."

" **And what respect have they for the dead?** "

"Much."

" **So much, you say, to leave someone where they lay for many nights and days? To let them lie in pain and terror, never knowing where their loved ones are? So much respect, these humans hold, to not even attempt some form of last rite?** "

"I'm sorry for your experiences with some humans, but it still does not justify such horrible behavior towards any and all humans. I understand it is difficult for us to see your point of view, all of us received at the very least our last rite."

" **And I received nothing but hate and disrespect for making sacrifice supreme in the name of the people I loved and the things I believed in.** **Hurriedly scraped up and locked away in this prison! No explanation, no apology, no goodbyes, no respect! Then sold to some humans who thought I was A VASE!** "

"Humans do often make that mistake, urns are not such a popular item nowadays," Alice explained.

"I'm terribly sorry, we're all terribly sorry," I said, looking around at equally dismal faces. "If you want to remain here and make peace with your life and its misfortunes, you are welcome. However, I cannot allow you to remain here to cause mischief or such things," I sighed. "We will help you, if you'd like to be peaceful, if you want to move on or simply let go of all those bad things."

" **What kind souls, to offer such a thing as** _ **me**_ **niceties. But I must decline. Such wounds do not simply heal with time or with solitude, they grow only wider and more difficult to close. Being confined to this space with only my own memories and thoughts has changed me, ripped me in two. Destroyed me. I will not rest until certain people pay for their part in my pain. Until each and every soul who led to my suffering feels the same pain I felt, as a human and as a spirit. I returned here to claim my reparations, not to let go, not to move on.** "

"Then I must ask you to leave," I reiterated. "You cannot stay here and continue down this path of evil."

Everyone was tense. It was difficult to assess the situation when our dark guest remained in its urn. How big was it? What stage had this gotten to? Could it still materialize in human form? Or had it become so wicked it no longer held connection to the human it once was? So many questions buzzed in my brain, each important in its own right and each unanswered.

" **And I will not oblige.** "

"Well, are you going to do all that from in there, are you?" Esme challenged.

In my heart, I knew Esme thought it was Charles. I was not so sure. I didn't want to believe it was the person I thought it could be, but I could think of no other.

Everything was silent for a long while. I hoped it didn't take Esme's invitation, a soul in an urn was a soul contained. It travelled with the object, if it left the urn and lost its connection to the urn, I wasn't sure how it could be removed from the house, _if_ it could be removed.

A long, low and extremely creepy laugh emanated from the urn.

" **I am biding my time. I'll know when it is time to creep out and begin.** "

That sent chills throughout the room. It made me shake with anger. I just wanted to rip the lid off that urn and stare that awful creature down. I wanted to see its terrible black face and hurl it from my precious home.

But none of that was wise.

Human removal was called for, and I was not aware of exactly how that was going to occur. It made me sick to think of a human even touching _the vessel that held_ such ungodly energy, not to even consider if some of that energy were to slip out and touch them.

"You will not destroy this place, we won't let you. None of us," I said harshly. "You do what you will, but you will be sorry."

No reply came, and I assumed it was simply ignoring me.

"What now?" Esme whispered.

"We leave this vile creature to its own company," I replied, promptly leaving the room and slamming the door behind me.

The others followed me to the library.

"What are we going to do?" Alice cried. "We have an evil spirit!"

"I know," I sighed, "We simply can't let it be evil. We must protect anyone who comes in here and make sure it can't hurt anyone."

"That might be easier said than done," Emmett pointed out.

"Doesn't matter, we have to do it. We have to protect our home and our humans."

"When we get some," Esme said.

"Right," I nodded. "Agreed?"

Everyone nodded and we parted ways to think about exactly what this arrival meant for all of us.


End file.
